


Helios

by Fooeyburr



Series: Helios [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bad end, Billford - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, I think I broke it, I wasn't sorry for anything included in the earlier parts but I'm genuinely sorry for this, I'm Sorry, M/M, like this is seriously fucked up shit, mentions of torture, this fic is also fucking dark as fuck, y'all knew how this was going to end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6375979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fooeyburr/pseuds/Fooeyburr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A closure sequel to The Fall of Icarus in which Ford realizes he was never in control to begin with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helios

**Author's Note:**

> ...Yea. If you read the tags, you know what to expect. This is not going to be a feelgood end to the trip, peeps.

 

The blaze of red was so bright it shone right through his closed eyelids.

 

* * *

 

 _The second the now empty glass was removed from his lips, he knew he'd made a horrible decision. A cold wave of regret and self-loathing hit him instantly; his eyes burned with tears as Bill released his supporting hold on the nape of his neck, letting him slump back against the damp, wrinkled sheets._  
  
_"Oh, no need to be like that", Bill hummed, his fingers traveling through the man's hair and down his cheek and neck, stopping at his chest quivering with silent, suppressed sobs. "I mean, yes, the choice you just made might've been **huge** , and possibly the wrong one to make, but I promise you won't regret it for long. Don't worry."_  
  
_Once Ford had somehow managed to fight down his sudden surge of guilt, he slowly opened his eyes and glared at the conceited look in Bill's eye. "Don't think you've won, Cipher", he growled hoarsely, heaving deep huffs through his nose. "Don't think this is over yet." That's right, this was merely an emergency measure, an act of self-preservation. The shade of thrill he'd felt along with the liquid running down his throat did not mean he was giving in, no, not even close._  
  
_Bill chuckled. "Oh, please, Fordsy. It's admirable how persistent you are with kidding yourself, but you're already on your way down and you know it." He emphasized his words by letting his hand slide a little lower, earning a small gasp from the man. "There's still plenty of time until the big splat, though... Might as well make the best of it while you're still afloat, am I right?"_  
  
_Ford's breaths became heavier at the feeling of Bill's hand resting on his lower abdomen. He was already starting to feel the effects of the drink running fervently through his body. He closed his eyes, knowing it was already too late to fight back._

 _It was okay. He was in control._  
  
_"Then let's get stared." Fingers probed at his lips again, and this time he accepted their invasion eagerly. Small, breathy sounds escaped his throat as he licked and sucked on the digits, desperately reaching out his tongue when they were drawn out too soon. The look of appreciation in Bill's eye made him tremble with hot shivers of arousal; the knowledge of being the object of an omnipresent, all-knowing creature's undivided attention filled his mind with the same intoxicating reverence he'd felt during their partnership in the past._  
  
_"So why don't you tell me again, Stanford Pines. What do you want me to do? And be nice."_  
  
_"Please..." Ford let out a short, shaky groan. Even the slightest movement of the fingers on his stomach made the heat rolling through him in waves almost unbearable. "...Touch me."_  
  
_"Oh", Bill uttered, a smile curving the corners of his eye. Ford moaned weakly as he felt one finger run lightly along his hardness. "You want me to touch you? You want to receive your praise in affectionate pets and scratches like a dog trying to please its master?"_  
  
_"Y-yes..." Ford groaned again, this time of frustration as the featherweight contact was gone in an instant. "Please, Bill..."_  
  
_"Oh, but Stanford, that's just weak, isn't it?" The hand was now kneading the back of his thigh, making him writhe. "Surely our connection goes so much deeper than that, don't you agree?"_  
  
_He was in control. "Yes... Yes, oh god, Bill... Bill..."_  
  
_"Now, tell me you want me inside you, under your skin, digging into every cell of your flesh and your whole being."_  
  
_Ford gulped, panting through his wet, gaping mouth. He was in control. "Yes, I... I want, oh g-, hahh... Please..."_  
  
_His barely opened eyes widened with shock and lust as he watched Bill's fingertips lenghten and narrow in front of his face, slowly taking the form of sleek, razor-sharp claws. One of them tapped his lip, just barely touching it. He could smell blood._  
  
_"I'll see what I can do, Fordsy.”_

 

* * *

 

A slight start was the first motion his body had been capable of in hours when he heard muffled voices coming from the floor beneath. After a short while, his brain could recognize a few of them.  
  
Oh no. _No._  
  
_No_...  
  
**_CRASH_**.  
  
With a thundering clatter and a cloud of dust spreading through the air, a shot from a weapon of some kind tore through the floor.  
  
"Great Uncle Ford! We're coming for you right now!"  
  
_No_.  
  
"Fat chance, Mabel! Now gimme that thing. You three stay here until I've cleared the way. Soos, take the wheel!"  
  
"Gotcha, Mr. Pines! Stick with me, you two."  
  
No, _no, no_...  
  
He could hear his brother grunting as he clambered arduously through the hole in the floor, supported by Mabel's grappling hook. Stan had barely gotten on his feet when his eyes spotted the bundle wrapped completely in sheets on the triangular bed, and rushed towards it so fast he almost tripped.  
  
"Ford! Thank goodness, you - What the h--, oh _god_..."  
  
Through the years, Stan had witnessed a lot of things that would've made any other man's skin crawl without breaking a sweat; but the amount of blood smeared all over the sheets covering the miserable being that was clearly his twin brother was enough to make his breath hitch and his knees wobble with terror. He almost wanted to believe that he was wrong, that it was someone else, but the six fingers gripping at the sheets were unmistakable.  
  
He approached the bed, trying to keep his voice calm. "Bro... Hey, buddy, are you -"  
  
" _Leave, Stanley_..."  
  
His heart soared with relief at the sign of him still being alive, yet simultaneously cold terror twisted his gut at the sound of the quiet voice that was almost unrecognizable as his brother's - it was broken, echoless, so weak he could barely hear it from under the sheet.  
  
Stan gritted his teeth and forced himself to toughen up. "Like hell I will", he said sternly, stepped up to the edge of the bed and grabbed the sheet over Ford's head. "Come on, Sixer, let's cut this hide-and-seek bullcrap and we'll get you out of h-- _AAHH_!"  
  
"Grunkle Stan, what's wrong? Grunkle Stan! That's it, we're coming up! Mabel, let's go!"  
  
"NO!" Stan roared in panic. " _Stay where you are_! Soos, don't let them, d-don't let the kids come here!"  
  
"What? Let me go, Soos! _Let us go_!"  
  
"I'm sorry, dudes, but you have to stay here! Mr. Pines, what's going on? Please, answer me! Mr. Pines!"  
  
Stan couldn't answer. His hands gripping the now pulled down sheet were trembling violently, and the sight of his brother's blood-drenched figure was enough to almost make him want to avoid his eyes. "Ford, what... What did that monster do to you?" he whispered, shaking his head in sheer terror and disbelief.  
  
"Don't... call him that."  
  
"W-what?"  
  
For a fleeting moment, Ford's empty, broken eyes sharpened. "Don't call him that. No. _Leave_. Don't call him that... Now he's your god too. You need to respect him or else he'll... _Leave me, Stanley_. Don't call him that. Not that. He's your god too. Now he's your god too. Leave me, Stanley."  
  
"Stop it! That's... You're driveling complete nonsense, and I'm _not_ leaving you here!" Stan shouted, frozen in place. He felt sick. He couldn't even bring himself to touch his brother; there was not an inch left on Ford's naked body that hadn't been cut, bruised, burnt or otherwise mutilated with a macabre mix of triangular patterns and ominous ciphers. Fresh blood was still trickling from the countless wounds to accompany the already dried patches that made the sheets stick to what was left of his skin.  
  
Around the glowing collar, his neck was even more harshly bruised and chafed. Perhaps it was for his own good that Stan had no way of knowing about the marks on his brother's neck having been self-inflicted - they were a reminder of a bleak moment when Ford had, in a frenzy fueled by both frustration and excruciating regret, tried to end himself by pulling his collar taut with all of the strength he'd had left, hoping for any kind of release from the maddening overstimulation that had already lasted for several hours. He'd managed to pass out for a few minutes, but the results hadn't been what he'd yearned for, and as his desperation was taken even further by the failed attempt, his mind, unable to endure it any longer, had finally reached its limit.  
  
Ford looked feverish as he monotonously repeated the same words over and over again. "He is my god and now he's your god too. He is my god and now he's your god too. _He is my god and now he's your god too_. Leave me, _leave me_... He is -"  
  
"SHUT UP, STANFORD! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!" Stan yelled, shaking all over and fighting down an urge to smack his brother in the face, a desperate attempt to shake him out of the delirious trance he seemed to be trapped in. Afraid of damaging the horribly mauled skin even further, he instead took a fierce grip on the man's curls, immediately regretting it when he saw his brother tense completely and his lips move as if trying to form a noiseless shout. He let go so quickly it was as if his hand had caught on fire.  
  
"Sorry, I", he stammered, "I wasn't - Shit, I'm so sorry, Ford, I didn't mean -"  
  
He was interrupted by the sound of Mabel's blood-curling scream.  
  
"Fire! There's fire! And i-it's coming this way! Grunkle Stan! _Grunkle Stan_!"  
  
"Mr. Pines, get down, _quick_!"  
  
Stan's heart almost stopped. "Ford, we need to go right now! I'm sorry!" Ditching his earlier cautiousness, he took a rigorous hold of his brother's torn upper body and tried to lift him up. The collar's sharp edge dug into the bruished flesh, and the intense pain it must've caused made Ford cry out with a horrible, broken grimace. The chain wound around the bed's pointy end would not budge an inch.  
  
" _NO_! Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Stan hauled at the chain to no avail, panic taking over the last bits of his rationality while inane thoughts like ' _never swear in front of the kids_ ' consumed all the space in his haze-filled brain.  
  
Meanwhile, Soos had climbed up to the room and was approaching the two of them hastily, throwing glances of sheer horror at the state Ford was in. "Mr. Pines, there's no time! I'm sorry, other Mr. Pines! I'm so sorry!"  
  
"NO! I WON'T LEAVE HIM HERE! I WON'T LOSE HIM AGAIN! LET GO OF ME, SOOS, I'M NOT FUCKING LEAVING UNTIL HE DOES! GET OFF YOUR ASS AND MOVE, STANFORD! _STANFORD_!"  
  
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry", Soos stammered as he dragged furiously struggling Stan by his waist towards the hole torn in the floor. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."  
  
But it was too late. Stan could already feel the flames all around him. It was too late.  
  
He turned to his twin, who was staring at him with glazed, expressionless eyes.  
  
"Brother", Stan breathed.  
  
Then everything was engulfed in fire.  
  
It felt warm.  
  
Ford's eyes burned.  
  
The blaze of red was so bright it shone right through his closed eyelids.  
  
Surrounded by warmth and blazing red, he remained still where he lay, limp and powerless, his lips weakly forming the same words over and over again.  
  
"I'm so sorry."  
  
"I'm so sorry."  
  
"I'm so sorry."  
  
"I'm so sorry..."  
  
But not a sound could be heard over the howl of flames, a piercing laughter echoing in the distance - and the soothing jazz that was, strangely enough, still playing in the background.

 

* * *

 

 _“Oh boy, these really do look good on you.”_  
  
_Ford could barely breathe. His whole body was arched against the bed, trembling and tense, smeared with blood and sweat. Every new neatly sliced marking on his skin enticed a voiceless scream from his lips, deepening the stimulation that burned and ached and tore his senses apart, but it was all the different nuances of sweetness and ecstacy. He felt like he was on fire._  
  
_He was going to lose his mind._  
  
_If he already hadn’t._  
  
_Bill’s voice sounded distorted to his drugged brain. “The bad news is I’m starting to run out of canvas here. Would be a shame to stop at this point… The good news, however”, he continued, halting the wave of what could only be described as sheer existential terror rushing over Ford at the earlier threat, “is that I already have the perfect, top tier quality, double-the-effect, triple-the-pleasure extension material in mind.” There was a small pause, during which Bill’s voice seemed to grow to fill the whole room._  
  
_“ **Your mind.** ”_  
  
_Ford didn’t stop to think. He couldn’t think. He had no time to think._  
  
_It was all over in an instant._

 

* * *

 

The bed, the penthouse, as well as the rest of his surroundings, were long gone. Gravity seemed to no longer apply to the broken reality he was trapped in, and he floated motionlessly in the emptiness that smelled like smoke and death and nothing.  
  
His eyes opened slightly as he sensed a familiar presence hovering next to him.  
  
“Hey, you.”  
  
Black arms wrapped around him, and in spite of them pressing and stretching his wounded skin painfully, he clung onto them like a child.  
  
“I was going to pick you up sooner, but things got a little heated up and… Well, you get the picture.” A smirk twisted the demon’s glowing eye. “Anyway, ready to go see what’s left of this dimension? I’m sure you’ll love it, Sixer.”  
  
Ford didn’t answer - he had no voice left in him - but apparently Bill took his silence as a sign of approval. They started floating swiftly across the disarranged, chaos-filled space around them; Ford couldn’t tell whether what he saw was a stage of mindless destruction or just innocent glimmers of light sporting with darkness.  
  
“You look a little beat there, bud. Still recovering from our last round?” With a gentle brush of Bill’s hand across his forehead, he could feel the pain from his countless wounds immediately starting to disappear, and trembled a bit from relief. “Oh, and sorry for leaving that one a bit prematurely, you see, I was sorta busy arranging all the tasty little twists involved in the process. Y'know, the usual jazz - invading your mind, snatching the equation, causing the apocalypse… Getting you all up'n going and ready to comply with whatever I had in mind was the easiest part of all this, lemme tell ya!”  
  
Ford leaned his head against the golden surface. His eyes felt tired from gazing at the war of abstractions his brain wasn’t able to fully comprehend.  
  
“The biggest twist, of course, is that there was no twist in that last one. None. Nada. Zilch.”  
  
He’d thought nothing would be able to stir his numb, shattered mind at this point; but as he slowly started to register Bill’s last statement, his body began to shake.  
  
“Haha, I knew you’d fall for it! You think the little something I added in your first drink was the magical trigger that set everything in motion right out of nothingness? Nah, all it ever did was give it a bit of a boost, re-adjust your inefficient human brain, if you will. Did you know that you fleshbags can only use one tenth of your total brain capacity? Sheesh, talk about your species being _half-baked_! You guys are nature’s weak excuse for entropy itself!” Bill laughed heartily. “The second drink, however… Spoiler alert! That was just a glass of water. Nothing else. Just plain old H2O, pal, with no additional spike or jive involved _whatsoever_! You really did a number on yourself there, smartso! _Hahaha_ , oh man, that’s hilarious!”  
  
Ford shook his head slowly. No. That made no sense. Nothing about it made sense.  
  
“In other words, all that happened was nothing but a glorified expedition of what was already in your own, freaky little mind.” His head was patted amiably. “Aw, so what if it makes no sense? Come to think of it, the world as it is now is just like your mind, buddy. Just senseless, beautiful chaos. Isn’t it nice to not be a freak anymore?” Fingers grazed and gripped his hair, forcing him to look up at the all-seeing eye.  
  
“You’re a _god_ now, Stanford… No, wait, you need a new name to replace that cheap disconnected human thing, one that’s fitting to your new position. You see, I’ve made you the god of this world, where the only thing that makes sense is the fact that nothing does, and the only form of light is the lack of darkness, and you are the sun above it all. Hm, a sun god! That works.”  
  
Bill pulled him near and pressed him against his closed eyelid. The gesture was oddly gentle, almost like an embrace.  
  
“I think I’ve figured out a perfect name for you, old friend.”


End file.
